


so just give me all of you

by chasingshadows



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dumb boys are dumb, M/M, Post 1x13, for season 1 at least, mentions of unconsensual healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 23:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20299870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingshadows/pseuds/chasingshadows
Summary: Michael passed out in his truck a half mile from the junkyard, the fever panic of seeing Max’s lifeless body floating in that pod finally succumbing to the weight of days without sleep, to the adrenaline crash of weeks on edge.He woke up to the frantic patting of Alex’s hands against his cheeks, to the shout of his name through the alarm beeping of a car door left ajar.





	so just give me all of you

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Rewrite the Stars" (Zendaya & Zac Efron).
> 
> Many blessed thanks to [Riley](http://ober-affen-geil.tumblr.com) and [Meagn](http://ubiestcaelum.tumblr.com) for helping me wrangle this fever dream of a fic.

“Guerin?!”

Michael passed out in his truck a half mile from the junkyard, the fever panic of seeing Max’s lifeless body floating in that pod finally succumbing to the weight of days without sleep, to the adrenaline crash of weeks on edge. 

He woke up to the frantic patting of Alex’s hands against his cheeks, to the shout of his name through the alarm beeping of a car door left ajar.

“Guerin, come on, wake up, _fuck_!” Alex’s voice was panicked as Michael groaned and scrunched his face against the light peeking through his eyelids. 

Then relieved. “Guerin, thank god,” he said on a sigh. “Are you hurt? What happened?” Alex’s hands were warm on his face.

“Alex?” He tried opening his eyes again, blinking before he was able to bring Alex’s face into focus, eyes wide and brow scrunched together.

“There you are, hey. Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

“I-” Michael closed his eyes, shaking his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. When he opened his eyes again, Alex ducked down to catch his line of sight, hands tightening on his cheeks. 

“Guerin, talk to me. I need to know if we can move you.” 

Michael looked around them. He was in the cab of his truck, engine still rumbling the floorboard under his feet. His hat was resting haphazard on the dashboard like it’d been thrown there, jacket half-slid from the seat to the floor next to him. The beeping noise was coming from his left - Alex’s truck, parked several feet away, driver’s door thrown open. Outside the passenger side window, the junkyard rose out of the desert, the clouds from the night’s storm retreating behind it along the horizon, sun high in the sky. 

It shouldn’t be on the right. It should be in front of him.

Michael looked back to Alex. “What happened?”

Alex sighed. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. You went off the road.” Alex’s hands tilted Michael’s head into the light. “Are you drunk?” 

Michael blinked, pulling away from Alex’s grip with a scoff. “No, I’m not fucking drunk, Alex.” He rubbed the bridge between his eyes with his left hand. “I-” He cut off, eyes catching on the colors shimmering on his hand, context sliding like oil into his mind. 

Alex drew back in the small space, hands dropping as he pressed against the open truck door. He’d changed since the night before, deep red sweater under a black leather jacket. His hair was gel-spiked, carefully mussed - he hadn’t worn it that way since high school. Michael knew he wasn’t allowed the flush of content he got seeing Alex this way. He glanced away, focusing on his hand, tilting it toward him to get a better look at the shiny, multicolored handprint. It’d been years since Max had left a mark like that on him.

“Guerin. Your hand.” 

Michael looked back up, meeting Alex’s wide-eyed stare. He tried not to think of the last time he’d seen Alex look so shell-shocked. Tried not to think of the prison, of buildings exploding, of dozens of voices going quiet in his mind. He swallowed. “Max is dead.” 

Alex blinked. “What?” 

Michael sighed. He was too tired for this, mind sluggish and heavy, the weight of an exhaustion headache pulling all his senses down. “Look, I know I said we’d talk but right now isn’t much better-”

“Guerin, stop, what do you mean, Max is dead? What happened?” When Michael didn’t say anything, just let his head drop into his hand, taking a deep breath, Alex’s voice went softer. “C’mon. You need to sleep.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Michael mumbled. He reached absently for the gear shift, catching only air before noting with surprise that it was in Drive instead of Park. He glanced down - his foot wasn’t on the brake.

_Shit_. He’d drifted to a stop. He’d gotten lucky - _very_ lucky. His foot must have slid off the gas pedal when he passed out, but if it hadn’t… He looked up through the windshield, seeing the jutting landscape, heart clenching sharply in his chest at what could’ve happened. The road was off to the right, farther than he was comfortable with. He’d drifted through the cracked desert soil and scrub brush for a couple hundred feet.

Exhaling sharply, Michael moved his foot to the brake out of habit, hand reaching for the gear shift to put it in Reverse, but he was stopped when Alex reached out with lightning quick reflexes, stopping him in an iron grip around his forearm. 

“What are you doing?”

“Going to bed? Watch out.” He shrugged out of Alex’s grip, almost surprised when he let go. 

“You’re not driving.” His voice was firm, his tone leaving no room for arguments.

Michael was used to ignoring that tone, especially from Alex. “Alex, I’m fine. It’s right there.” He gestured out the window.

“No. Get in my car, I’m driving.” 

Michael took a calming breath. “Look, you can follow behind if it makes you feel better, but I’m not leaving my truck out here.” 

“Oh, and how is that supposed to help when you go off the road again and crash into Sanders’ house? Or go speeding into the desert and flip your truck on an outcrop?” He was glaring and tilting his head in that way Michael usually found cute.

It wasn’t cute now.

“God, Alex, I’ll be fine, I just want to go to sleep.” 

“Fantastic, we’re on the same page for once. Now get out. You can walk if you want, but I doubt you’d make it very far.”

_God_, but Alex was infuriating. Michael was _tired_, he was drained beyond capacity, and there were too many memories fighting for space in his head, far more vivid than seemed fair when every other thought was foggy. He couldn’t deal with Alex right now.

“Alex, just go home. I can’t do this right now.” 

“I’m not going anywhere until you get out of the truck.” 

“I kissed Maria.” 

He just blurted it out, thoughtless and sharp, the only thing his weary mind could rummage up to make Alex go away. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Alex to slam the truck door closed and go storming off, maybe. What he _wasn’t_ expecting was for Alex to roll his eyes, mouth dropping open on an exasperated sigh. 

“I’m aware. Now get out.” 

Michael felt cold in the late November air. “Wh-” What does that mean? How did you know? _Why are you still here?_

“Maria called,” Alex answered the unspoken question, leaving the others floating dangerously between them. When Michael just stared, Alex leaned back against the door, eyebrows relaxing. “For fuck’s sake, Guerin, I’m not leaving until you’re in bed. Either you get out of the car, or I drag you out. Your choice.” He reached around the wheel for the keys, but Michael got there first, batting him away and putting his hand over the keyring, the keys tinging as they knocked together.

“Have you forgotten the part where I’m telekinetic?” Michael was getting mad again.

Alex snorted, mocking smile tugging at his lips, eyebrows rising. 

Michael sighed heavily, looking to the side. They both knew Alex was right - he didn’t even have to say it. 

_Fuck_, he was tired. The longer he sat here arguing with Alex, the longer before he could pass out and try to forget this day - these last several days, in fact - ever happened.

“God, you’re fucking stubborn,” he spat out, angry as he gripped the gear shift and put the truck in Park. 

Alex smiled, head tilted in sarcasm. “It’s part of my charm. Let’s go.” 

Michael grabbed the keys and his jacket, swallowing down a growl of frustration before hopping out of the truck and stepping around Alex, pretending he didn’t notice Alex’s hand reach out when he wobbled on his feet. He shoved the keys into his pocket next to his phone and stepped forward, letting Alex close the door of his truck.

“Make that fucking beeping stop,” he growled as he made his way around the front of the Explorer.

He passed out against Alex’s passenger side window in the time it took Alex to turn his car around and drive the half mile down the dirt road to Sanders’ Auto. Alex was nudging him in the shoulder. 

“Wake up, Guerin. I’m not gonna carry you.” He heard the click of a seat belt and sudden quiet of an engine shutting down before the nudging was back. “Let’s go. I know you can hear me.” 

“Asshole.” Michael coaxed his eyes open, shoving away from the door enough for his hand to find the handle and pop it open. He tumbled out, hand reaching out to grip the top of the door to stabilize himself. The hubcaps clanged in the wind and he half turned his head back when he heard the driver’s door open. “Go home, Alex.” 

“I told you,” he said, closing his door. “I’m not leaving until you’re in bed.”

Michael’s lips started to turn up into a snarl, but he didn’t have the energy to keep arguing. He threw the car door back behind him, letting it slam as he followed Alex into the airstream.

He didn’t think about the last time he’d followed Alex in here. Didn’t think about the events that followed. Didn’t think about the words Alex had said the last time he’d been standing in this space, only hours before. Didn’t think about how Max had still been alive then.

He just shoved past Alex, tossed his jacket on the chair, and flung himself into his bed, kicking off his boots. His eyelids were already too heavy to hold up as he mumbled a final dismissal into the pillow.

When he woke, the Airstream was dark, just a single lamp lit over the table at the other end of the cabin and another light source, bluish, that he couldn’t place amongst his catalogue of possessions. His head didn’t ache anymore, but he still felt groggy, that thick mental sludge of having slept too long. A pressure in his belly gnawed at him - he needed to piss. He lifted his head, squinting to make out the figure sitting in the chair, fingers clacking away on a laptop that definitely wasn’t his.

“Alex?” 

Alex came into focus as his fingers paused, looking up at Michael, face half-shaded in the light from the lamp. “Finally.” 

Michael groaned, letting his head drop back against the pillow. “I told you to go home.” 

Alex’s eyes turned back down to the laptop screen, fingers moving again. “I did. You’ve been out for about... 14 hours.” 

Sighing, Michael rolled himself out of the bed, catching his hand on the half wall to stand and only missing the full glass of water resting there by an inch. He stumbled toward the toilet, hands already working on his belt and jeans, pulling himself out with his left hand and dragging the curtain closed with his right, feeling it catch and snag along the rail from misuse. He let himself take a deep breath, resting his head on his forearm against the wall.

His eyes caught on the mirror on the wall behind him when he reached back to drag the curtain back after buttoning up, a flash of color where it shouldn’t be. Another handprint, this one along the front and side of his neck, barely a glimmer in the low light. Michael’s heart thudded painfully. He was covered, covered in Max’s mark on his skin, covered in reminders of the lengths Max went to to save his life, even after Michael betrayed him, attacked him. 

Michael tore his eyes from the mirror, twisting out to step toward his bed. He snagged the water glass, downing it in one go. Alex ignored him, didn’t so much as glance up at the soft _thud_ of the empty glass on the wood when Michael set it back down, and Michael didn’t know whether to be irritated or grateful. He’d changed again, layered in a dark t-shirt, yellow plaid button-up, and black hoodie. 

Michael dropped back onto the bed, elbows resting on his thighs. He let his head hang low between his shoulders and took a moment to just let himself breathe, soothed by the rhythmic sound of keys clicking. 

Max was dead. Died doing exactly what Michael had told him not to do. 

Rosa was alive. Standing suspicious and uncharacteristically quiet in the corner of the cave, clutching the blanket tightly around her while Isobel and Liz wiped silver goo from their arms on Max’s clothes. 

Liz had told him to go home, to sleep. She’d said he was no good to her like this, that she needed him to _think._ That she’d take care of Isobel, who was wide-eyed and bone-white in the shifting light of the pod. He’d wanted to protest - Isobel was _his_ to take care of, especially now - but he was barely holding himself upright against the rock of the cave wall, body already sagging with exhaustion. 

Liz said they’d figure this out, that they’d fix it, whatever that meant.

Max was dead. 

Alex was _here_. 

Alex, who said he wanted to be friends. Who said Michael was his family. Who said he didn’t look away. Who looked at Michael with _want_ and said he wanted to fight his own battles.

Alex, who knew Michael had kissed Maria anyway. Who hadn’t even flinched when Michael threw that in his face.

Guilt burned dark and hot in Michael’s chest, rising up his throat. He was confused and frustrated - Alex never made any goddamn sense, not unless he was naked and panting under Michael’s hands. He didn’t understand what Alex wanted from him. He didn’t understand why Alex always left. He didn’t understand why he always came back.

He didn’t understand why Alex was _here_.

Michael loved him _so fucking much_, even after everything. In spite of everything. Because of everything. It was this heavy, intangible _thing_, pulling at him constantly, pulling him toward Alex, even when Alex pushed him away.

Even when he pushed Alex away.

_Fuck_.

“I shouldn’t have said that,’ he said, speaking the words to the floor between his dirty socked feet, eyes tracking the shape of Max’s handprint shimmering on his hand dangling between his knees. He saw Alex look up from the corner of his eye and the clacking stopped.

Michael sighed, turning to meet Alex’s eyes in the dim light. “I shouldn’t have _done _that. I’m sorry.” He knew Alex knew what he was talking about. Hoped he knew how much he meant it.

Alex looked away, mouth opening and closing once before he spoke. “It’s not my business who you kiss, Guerin. You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Bullshit.” 

Alex snapped his head over to look back at Michael, brows furrowing. 

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’re angry. You should be.”

Alex swallowed, lips pursing. He nodded. “I’m angry,” he admitted, edge slipping into his voice. “I’m hurt.” 

It shouldn’t feel good to hear that, it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t curl happy and satisfied in his chest, quieting that piece of Michael’s heart that always doubted whether he meant anything to Alex. If he was angry, if he was hurt, that meant he _cared_.

But Michael could never truly relish in hurting Alex, not even the bitter parts that lashed out when Alex walked away. He never wanted to see Alex hurt.

“I don’t want her.” Michael stared down, not meeting Alex’s eyes. “I _want_ to want her. It’d be easier. But I don’t.”

“That’s not fair.” Michael looked over to Alex, expecting pique but seeing only understanding in Alex’s eyes. “Not to her, or me.” 

Swallowing, Michael nodded. He took a deep breath, wetting his lips. “I don’t know what you want from me.” _I don’t know why you’re _here_._

It was a beat before Alex reacted, inhaling sharply and glancing back to the laptop long enough to pull the lid closed, cutting off the iridescent blue light. He looked back to Michael, tongue darting out before his mouth popped open on the exhale, long and steady. 

In the past, this was the point in the conversation when Alex would stalk over, roll over, lean over, and kiss Michael stupid, make him forget the question. Make him forget his name. And a part of Michael ached for that, for the feel of Alex’s lips on his, but the rest of him knew it wouldn’t do them any good right now. Alex knew it, too.

Alex took another breath before he spoke. “I want... “ He closed his eyes, head shaking before he met Michael’s eyes again. “Everything?” He said it like a question, like he couldn’t not say it. Like he was scared of it.

Of all the things Michael thought he might hear, that wasn’t it. That wasn’t like Alex. It was declarative and undeniable. It was a lot. It was _everything_. 

Michael huffed out a humorless laugh, fingers caught in tangles as he tried to drag his hand through his hair. “I’m a mess.” His voice cracked and he could feel the heat of tears welling at his eyes.

Alex nodded, swallowing. “I know.” 

Michael choked back a sob that twitched through his chest, tears burning hot down both cheeks when he closed his eyes. Alex said that like it was _simple_. Like he could handle it. Like he _wanted _to. 

Michael shook his head, drowning in the well of everything he was feeling- love and hope colliding with fear and worry, swirling around and making his head spin. He couldn’t catch up, couldn’t hold on, thoughts and feelings sliding out of grasp.

Movement caught his eye and he watched Alex set his laptop on the table and twist around to reach for something leaned against the door, standing up as he lifted it. 

Michael’s eyes went wide when he recognized the shape of the black bag in the low light, breath hitching when Alex stepped across the small space toward him. His throat _click_ed on a swallow when Alex extended the bag to him, just waiting patiently for Michael to find his hands.

He did, accepting the guitar, brow furrowed in confusion. Alex gave a small smile before turning on his heel and stepping back to the other side of the Airstream. “That one is probably out of tune, hasn’t been played in years.” His voice was sharp, the heaviness already forgotten in the change of topics.

“I-” Michael let his hand drift down the bag, feeling the shape of the instrument underneath. He looked over to Alex, who had leaned against the table, arms braced against the edges on either side of his thighs.

“_Thank you_.” He felt the tingle of déjà vu against his skin, a moment relived. It was so similar, and yet everything had changed. Everything had changed, and it was still the two of them. Still Michael and Alex; except this time, Alex knew the gift he was giving. And Michael knew what Alex was saying.

Alex’s lips turned up, this smile more genuine than the last. He didn’t answer, just nodded, before slipping back into the chair and reaching for his laptop.

Michael unzipped the bag, pulling out the guitar and dropping the bag to the side. It felt good in his hands as he pulled it up into his lap, familiar in the way the guitar at the Pony hadn’t. The clicking had started up again, Alex seemingly paying him no attention as he worked. Michael started picking at the strings, listening and pausing to tune, plucking and tuning, again and again, until it finally sounded _right_. 

Then he started to play. He took a deep breath as the feel of the strings’ vibrations reverberated through the fingers of his left hand, still unused to sensation after ten years of aching numbness. The music rolled through his mind, silencing the chaos, like the way the lid on a pot of boiling water quieted the babble. 

His eyes drifted shut and he tilted his head into the void. 

He wasn’t sure how long he played. When one song ended, another flowed through his fingers right behind it, seamlessly picking up the beat. He absently noted Alex getting up to leave the Airstream, returning a song or so later. Michael kept playing, letting the melody break through the churn of emotions - through the dual walls of grief, through the confusion, the heartbreak, the love, and the fear. He kept playing until everything _settled_, a peace within his mind that he hadn’t reached since the last time Alex had extended a hand to him.

His fingers stilled and Michael noted the light peeking through the newspaper-covered windows, sun rising on a new day.

Alex was still there. Still clicking away at his laptop. He paused when the music stopped, looking over to Michael with eyebrows raised.

“Hey.” 

Michael swallowed. “Hey.” He pulled the guitar from his lap, bracing it on the floor between his feet. It was so similar, sitting here on the edge of a threadbare cot, Alex to his right, the weight of words said and unsaid hanging between them.

Shaking his head, Michael stood, propping the guitar against the wall and marching across the Airstream. Alex just watched like he was _waiting_, hand settling on the lid of the laptop and dropping it closed, placing it on the table as Michael reached him. 

Michael bent down, hand wrapping around Alex’s neck as Alex’s hand slid into his hair, pulling together until their lips finally met. Michael sighed into the kiss, into the feeling, into the way his chest dropped in _relief_. Alex braced his free hand on the arm of the chair, pressing up and crowding against Michael as he stood, hand slipping against Michael’s waist when he was on his feet. 

_God_, but nothing felt like this. Every nerve in Michael’s body was pinging, sounding off to his brain that _this_, this was _right_. This was _it_. Everywhere Alex was touching him was on fire, licking at him from the inside out, compelling him to step into the flames. 

Alex walked him back to the fridge, cold and firm against Michael’s shoulders, as his fingers tightened around Michael’s hair, making him _gasp_ into Alex’s mouth. The other hand slipped around to press against the small of Michael’s back, pulling him _closer_. He twisted into Michael, thigh pressing between Michael’s legs, and _rolled_ his hips into Michael’s. Michael moaned and Alex nipped at his bottom lip before he drew back, breaking the kiss.

“You’re not the only mess here,” he said breathlessly, like he needed to say it, like he needed Michael to _understand_. He was staring into Michael’s eyes like he was _pleading_.

Michael just laughed softly, fingers brushing gently against Alex’s face. “I know,” he said, squeezing where his hand had landed on Alex’s hip, slipped beneath the hoodie. Alex huffed, nodding and smiling as he kissed Michael again. 

Michael could stay here forever, locked in this moment with Alex. It was easy, when they were like this. When they were just two bodies fighting to share space, aching to touch more, feel more. To chase the energy that crackled whenever they were near, that simmered when they weren’t.

Michael had told Alex once that playing music was the only thing that made him feel quiet. It had been true, at the time; it just hadn’t been true for long. 

Something vibrated against Michael’s leg and Alex jerked back, startled for a moment before his hand dropped from Michael’s back, leaving a cold spot as Alex shoved his hand into his pocket to pull out the ringing phone.

Liz’s name and smiling face lit up the display of Alex’s phone. He sighed, the hand still buried in Michael’s hair gripping lightly as he swiped to answer and brought the phone to his ear, letting his forehead drop against Michael’s.

“Hey, Liz. Any updates?” Alex was looking directly into Michael’s eyes, unblinking. Michael could only stare back, chest rising and falling against Alex’s.

“Isobel’s awake.” Michael heard Liz’s voice, tinny and low through the phone speaker. “Michael needs to get here.” Something crashed in the background, a loud _boom_ accented with the shatter of glass. “_Now_. She’s throwing furniture around the room and I don’t think she knows how to stop.” 

_Shit_. Fuck Max for being right and fuck him for leaving Michael to deal with it on his own.

Alex sighed. “We’re on our way. Is Rosa still with Kyle?” 

Liz answered in the affirmative, trailing off in a mutter of Spanish curses as another _thud_ echoed through the phone. Michael’s eyebrows scrunched together, looking down as Alex asked another question, confirming some detail they must have discussed while Michael was passed out.

It was baffling - and a bit terrifying - just how much had changed in the last few months. Last June, it was just the three of them: Isobel, Michael, and Max. Them against the world. Aliens hiding in a hostile world.

And now there were these humans - Alex, Liz, even _Kyle Valenti_ \- that were helping them. Taking care of them. Protecting them. Watching over Isobel as she slept off her grief. Making sure Michael didn’t drive his truck off a cliff. Hiding away their secrets while they recovered. 

Alex dropped the phone from his ear, tucking it back in his pocket with a frown. He took a deep breath, meeting Michael’s eyes, flicking down to his lips when Michael wet them. Michael surged forward, inhaling into the kiss, breathing Alex in, feeling that pleasure curl when Alex pulled at his hair to draw him closer.

It was _so good_, fuck, nothing ever felt so good. But it didn’t last, Alex shifting back, panting into the space between them.

“Isobel needs you,” he breathed out, eyebrows betraying how much he resented the words.

Michael nodded, swallowing. He was all Isobel had left - and wasn’t that a terrifying thought? He let himself drop back against the fridge, nodding again and loosening his hold on Alex, hand sliding down his neck to his chest as Alex stepped back, licking his lips and sniffing. 

Michael put on his boots, newly-healed fingers clumsy on the laces, as Alex slid his laptop into its case and grabbed his backpack. 

“C’mon,” he said as Michael was finishing up. “They’re at Isobel’s. I’ll drive you.” 

Michael swallowed back an irritated sigh. Not this again. He looked up from his boots to see Alex standing over him, eyebrows raised expectantly. “I can drive.” 

Alex’s jaw tensed and his eyes rolled, but he sighed and conceded. “Fine, I’ll take you to your truck.”

Cursing, Michael stood. He’d forgotten it was still out there, parked in the middle of the shrubs. “If someone stole my truck,” he started. 

At that, Alex actually started laughing, that easy, giggling laughter that meant Michael had just said something ridiculous. “Guerin, I know you love that truck, but you’re the only one. Literally no one is gonna steal it.”

Michael frowned. “Liar. You love my truck.” He raised his eyebrows, daring Alex to deny it. 

Alex’s expression softened, lips spreading from a mocking smile to a more gentle, sincere one. He opened his mouth, closing it again and swallowing before speaking. “She’s a good truck.” 

“Damn right.” He reached over his head to pull his shirt off, twisting to grab the gray one that had fallen onto the pillow from the half wall. He sniffed it before pulling it over his head - it wasn’t freshly washed, but it was better than the bloodstained one on the floor and the one he’d slept in. 

When he turned back, Alex had hitched his backpack over his shoulder and was watching him unabashedly. He met Michael’s eyes, inhaling. “Let’s go.” He chucked his head toward the door and spun around, Michael following, stretching to grab his jacket from where Alex had lain it across the back of the chair.

The air outside was chill as Michael shoved his arms through the sleeves, crossing the front of the Explorer to the passenger side. The sun was rising, painting the east in oranges and pinks that blended across the sky to the deep blues of the pre-dawn west. 

They were silent as Alex turned around and exited the junkyard, following the dirt road out towards where Michael’s truck sat stark and blue against the tawny landscape.

“I thought you were kidding about the rattle,” Michael commented. 

“Huh?” Alex glanced over, eyebrows pressed together in confusion before the expression cleared and he looked back out the windshield. “Oh. That’s been there forever.” 

Michael suppressed a groan, running a hand over his face. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.” Alex laughed. “You’re lucky it’s just a loose exhaust.” 

Alex’s eyes narrowed out the windshield. “Do you actually know what that sounds like, or did you…” His hand lifted off the wheel, rotating on its wrist, before dropping back down. “Ya know?” 

Michael rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to use my powers to know what a loose exhaust pipe sounds like.” 

Alex’s fingers extended outward, head tilting to the side slightly. “Touchy.” He took a deep breath, lips pursing before he reached over and grabbed Michael’s hand. Michael looked down, confused, as Alex wrapped his hand around Michael’s, thumb rubbing along the top of his scarless fingers, shimmering pink and blue in the light.

Michael swallowed, resisting the urge to pull away. “I told him not to.” The words felt weird on his lips, like he was violating some rule about speaking ill of the dead, but he _needed _Alex to know that. “He wouldn’t listen.” 

Alex looked over, meeting Michael’s eyes long enough to nod. He dropped Michael’s hand to turn the wheel, pulling off the road to rumble over the desert towards Michael’s truck, parking alongside and leaving several feet between the two driver’s side doors. 

Michael got out, feet crunching on the dried soil and spindly plants as he made his way around. Alex was already rolling his window down when Michael approached, resting his forearms through the open window. “Are you meeting us at Isobel’s?” 

Alex nodded. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Michael sighed, looking to the side, already weary with what was awaiting him. 

“Guerin?” Michael looked back to Alex. “We’re gonna figure this out.”

Taking a deep breath, Michael stared at him. It didn’t make sense, that Alex could be so good, that _this_ could be so right, when everything else was so wrong. They weren’t perfect, weren’t done talking, and it certainly wouldn’t be _easy_. 

But it was something, that Alex was here, that Alex was looking at him like that, that Michael could duck through the window and press a kiss to Alex’s lips like it was normal, like that was just a thing he got to do.

Alex waited while Michael climbed into his truck, sliding his hat over his head and digging out his keys. His truck turned over on the first try, rumbling to life beneath his hands as he put her in Reverse and backed out around Alex’s front end, turning back for the road.

He didn’t know how he was going to face everything before him. Isobel and the horrifying reality of losing her husband and twin within days of each other. Having to teach her a kind of control he’d only been able to master out of sheer survivalistic need. The reality of a dead girl resurrected in a town that scorned her name. A shadowy government conspiracy he was sure they’d only scratched the surface of. Maria, and a conversation he _really_ didn’t want to have, but owed her anyway. 

Michael’s eyes flicked to his rearview mirror, seeing Alex through the dusty windshield of his Explorer, both hands on the wheel. 

No, he wasn’t sure how he was going to face it all. But for the first time in his life, he knew he wouldn’t be facing it alone.

**Author's Note:**

> the original title of this was "idk fuck why is it 7am" because i starting writing at midnight and glanced at the clock when the sun was coming up. idk i just felt it important that y'all know that.


End file.
